Defining Ourselves
by Pearl22
Summary: She knew Malfoy's name, not him - that was enough to despise him, though.And she knew everything about that boy she had met at this bloody masquerade ball, everything but his name. Enough to like him. What she didn't know- they were the same.Rose/Scorpius
1. One messed up event

_**Defining Ourselves**_

* * *

**Disclaimer: I'm not schizophrenic, so I can assure you I'm not JKR. That however means that I don't own anything. **

_A/N: Hello, everyone. I've always wanted to try writing a Rose/Scorpius story, so I just went for it now, I guess._

* * *

"_Oh my goodness, Rose I'm SO sorry!"_

Bloody _**brilliant**_.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Life _**sucks**_.

Period.

Why, excuse me if I confused you. I assume it's pretty awkward for the absolutely _perfect_ Rose Weasley (which is namely _moi_ in all my glory) to state such a sentence, isn't it? Seeing as she is the daughter of the ever so perfect Golden Trio members Hermione and Ronald Weasley ,sister of the most perfectly annoying little brother in the world Hugo Bloody-Prat-Weasley and lives her little perfect life in oh so jolly …

Crap, it sounds pathetic, doesn't it?

Save it. Please.

Maybe my _amazing_ (note the sarcasm) Cousin James has a point (which would be a premiere). I **do** rant like a sad little geek at times. How pitiable.

'_A __**little**__ geek? Geez, Uncle Percy looks like a rock star next to you and your books, Rosie! And that bloke wears slipovers all the freaking time!'_

Thanks a lot, karma. Add James' bloody (imaginary) snickers to all my misery.

_Git._

Oh and maybe I should mention that I happen to despise that ridiculous nickname 'Rosie'. Not that James knows that, hell _no_. But, his childish behavior set aside, I'm seriously wondering who in their right minds calls a witch of seventeen-years _Rosie_?

(Except dad, of course, he's a bit slow.)

Rosie. That sounds like the name of an old Muggle lady's budgerigar. Or packet-soup with a yellow label. Or said older Muggle lady.

I can assure you, I am neither of them.

At least that twit of a cousin has already graduated. It's tough enough to deal with the male relatives from the Weasley part of the family, which, conveniently, makes almost half of Hogwarts population. The other half consists of the Weasley girls…oh, and a few _other_ students, of course. Believe me; it's almost impossible by natural law to get a date that has no incestuous traits whatsoever.

Maybe I'm exaggerating _a bit._

Take your pick, it doesn't matter. You can't escape the Weasley-clan, no matter where you go. That's just the consequence of six siblings reproducing like rabbits. (And, for starters, who the hell has SEVEN kids? Although one of them died. Sad story in fact. When my dad told me about Uncle Fred for the first time, I cried all night long, I was eight years old, after all. Mom always said that Dad had the timing of a broken alarm-bell.)

It's all a plan of course. You see, we'll rule the world one day.

Ginger-hair for president. Cheers.

Yes, I am perfectly aware that my hair is rather auburn, thanks. Not that it matters, I'm a Weasley though of course. An uber- proud Weasley, that is.

(Yay.)

Anyways, where was I? Oh right, the git called James.

Many girls (or rather groupies) will disagree with me, but really, there is no need to throw the Potter-gits into that mess called 'cousins at Hogwarts' too. Although I have to confess, James is the only Potter git, I guess. No complaints about Albus, - he's my favorite cousin AND one of my closest friends, hands down. If you want to tell him off, you've got to get my permission first.

Although, funnily, he thinks _he_ is the one protecting _me_.

Ah...the Potter's pride. So sweet.

Yes, you heard right, POTTER. As in Harry POTTER. _**Amazing**_, what?

Chances are that you go all giggly now and ask me about every freaking detail about my uncle. Or you simply have your jaw dropping to the ground and won't bother to say something sensible for the next twenty minutes.

Hurray for famous relatives.

Insert cheer at this point.

Don't get me wrong, I love all my relatives madly (with few exceptions)- but sometimes it gets all too much. Ever spent a holiday at the burrow? I will never hope to understand how in hell so many people are able to fit in there. You have got absolutely no privacy in that family. (and I _hate_ it when somebody gets in between of me and my babies - my books.)

If something happens to you, the whole family knows. You just need to break your ankle and about ten relatives are breathing down your neck, exclaiming all their great compassion. Fun times.

And I do not wonder why Sean Finnegan (smart move on the parent's side), my very first boyfriend, broke up with me after the first encounter with my cousins, who somehow had gone berserk when they heard the news. But that was in second year, and anyways, I just went out with him, because he always carried the most delicious muffins around (sent to him by his Muggle grandmother). In second year that seemed like a good enough reason to hold someone's hand and be their girlfriend.

My family is somewhat wacko, in all honesty. But we're knit-tight till booth. As I mentioned before, there isn't _your_ business, there's just _family_ business. We're there for each other, no matter what.

Nonetheless, they're crazy.

L-u-n-a-t-i-c.

And all gifted with a very hot temper.

Different from me.

I'm quite the only responsible one in this family, if you think about it. I, for starters, do not feel the need to show off my entire Gryffindor courage by breaking the rules on a regular basis. Rules are the basis for a peaceful environment, which in return guarantees better achievements in the lessons. It's that simple. (I'm still trying to convince Albus to see it my way; sadly, it's me who ends up dragged INVOLUNTARILY in some semi-adventures, however, though. But never fear I'm working on that.)

And neither am I so badly-tempered like them. I'm sophisticated. Wise. (Or something like that.) I have no problems whatsoever to spend all my time in the library or Flourish & Blotts or the Common Room, right in front of the fireplace with a good old book in my hands and…

…I think you know what I'm getting at.

My cousins call me a bookworm. I can't complain, it's true after all. You can't help it, if you're brilliant, can you? (Yes, feel free to bow down to my modesty.)

There's a thing called composure. And I master at it. (No matter what my relatives say, who, ridiculously, accuse me of being just as thickheaded as my Dad at times.)

Ignorant, the whole bunch of them.

Think about it. It's _not_ exaggerated to freak out and hex everyone in reach, after your very dearest airhead of a cousin Lily Potter (who's actually quite smart) messed up your dress, a dress you searched for about five hours for and that you intended to wear at a bloody masquerade ball you never even wanted to attend, by spilling a big old glass of butter beer all over you, just five minutes before you had to take off!

I think it was justified that Albus had now the ears of a burro for coughing in my direction.

Because, hey, I was irritated.

Very. Irritated.

Who cared that Albus' date for the dance would most likely be terrified as soon as she saw his ears, anyways?

Exactly. No one.

* * *

I would not say that I hated Scorpius Malfoy.

We didn't get along with each other. He wasn't able to tolerate me as much as I wasn't able to tolerate him. True.

But it wasn't as if I knew a lot about him and quite frankly I'd never been interested in changing that fact either. One of the few things I needed to know was his name. And the traits and stories that were connected with it.

That was enough. Always had been.

I knew that his father and grandfather had been Death Eaters, servants of the dark lord, decades ago. There was nobody who had not heard of those crimes, and I, being a Weasley's daughter, got to hear more about those things than most others did.

Malfoy came from a long line of bloody criminals. Simple.

If you'd been watching too much Muggle TV soaps, you would probably assume that there was a hell of tension between me and him, simply because of all the happenings in the past.

But that's not how it was.

We did not _search_ for encounters or chances to fight. There was no famous rivalry like Uncle Harry, Dad and Malfoy's father had shared in their youth. Not even close. The sort of competition we did share was mostly based on academic terms- as Malfoy was almost scoring as high as I did in each subject. But it was nothing outstanding, not some kind of world-changing loathing that made the school grounds shake. None of our fellow students particularly cared, whether or not I hated Malfoy , as, other than in those high school movies, they did have an own life to focus on. Besides, a fair share of them seemed to dislike him just as much as I did.

There was simply this mutual feeling of distaste, of chagrin and sometimes even disgust. _Simply_ like that. He was a Slytherin (aka 'one of the rotten kind') and he certainly behaved like one whenever I met him. I can't really tell whether he was popular with any of his house fellows, since I never saw him interact with anybody friendly. And I never cared.

He was the Death Eater spawn. A pompous pureblood. Slytherin.

Malfoys were to be avoided; every half blood and muggleborn child knew that. I have always been a very curious witch, a trait I inherited by my mother (apparently to make up for the irrational spider-phobia I got from Dad), you would think I would have been tempted bloody _**badly**_ to get to know exactly that one person whose mind was 'unexplored'.

But that was the thing- no matter whether it was special or not, I felt great hostility against him. I did not _want_ to spend more time in his presence than necessary, no; I wanted to get away whenever my eyes caught sight of him. He was scum in my eyes, the least scum on earth and you don't value such kind of things with attention.

Oddly enough, my relatives always considered me the one in the family to loath Malfoy the most. (needless to say that Hugo and James never forgot to compliment me on that.) I never really understood why- it was them who could not walk past him, without spitting a loud and hateful remark at him, them, who searched every day for another way to show him just how much they disdained him, how easily they could put the Malfoy spawn down. Anger and rage were the only things that connected them with him. All _I_ did was to stay away and try not to acknowledge his existence. Only if he took things too far, my full Weasley temper showed through and sparks began to fly. That was all. Simple.

My cousins however interpreted my behavior differently- they always told everyone willing to listen that I was so utterly disgusted and filled with hatred towards Malfoy I wasn't even able to stay for longer than a minute in the same room with him.

I had thought like them back when I had been a clueless little first year. I had thought I hated Malfoy more than anything else in the world, that his plain sight made me sick.

But I had been wrong. (Which doesn't happen often.)

It was true that I was nauseated by him. But it wasn't because of him- well, not _really_. I disliked him because of his name. Disrelished him because of his ancestor's crimes. Was averse to his selfish and cocky behavior, the one he showed whenever I saw him in public.

These things were simple and could easily be mistaken for hatred.

But Malfoy, _himself_ had never been the reason for my great animosity. How could he? I did not know him at all, as I'd never wanted to. This, however, made things more complicated.

Because you can't _hate_ something you don't even know, can you?

* * *

My fingers fiddled nervously at the edges of the deep red mask that covered half of my face as I hurried down to the Great Hall. I heard the steps of my cousin Lily and my girlfriends tapping through the floors behind me, (they were gracile as always) but I hadn't any intention to wait up for them.

The dress was ruined. Or at least in my eyes it was. (After ten minutes of listening to apologies and several reassurances that it wasn't half as bad as I thought, I simply had chosen to tone down their voices and convinced myself that it was indeed _that_ bad.)

Eventually though I got enlightened. Or to put it better- I realized that I was supposed to be a _witch_.

Goodbye, dress-drama.

(Now, this was pathetic indeed.)

I shot my darkest Weasley glare at a random portrait that had the insolence to smile and nod friendly its head at me, while I rushed by. The Elizabethan bloke with the white powdered cheeks flinched immediately and left quickly his frame. (probably to visit his equally palely powdered acquaintances and to complain about the rude youth of today) For a second I felt almost bad because of this- but honestly, did I look like I was to be smiled at right now?

No. Can't imagine that I did.

Thankfully, he would not remember this pretty fed up seventeen year old in the claret-red dress and the ridiculously sparkling mask, had been me. Word went quickly around between these chatty portraits (well what else would you do, when you were stuck on a bit paper most of your time?) and we wouldn't want to hit anyone with the _horrid_ truth that the famous spawn of two _amazing_ heroes just insulted (nonverbally, that is) a poor, defenseless portrait, now would we?

The consequences would most likely be general shunning and distaste on the portraits' part, which in return would mean a lost source of gossip for all those girls who were known for socializing with me.

Unable to cope with that horror, they would ditch me and leave me in loneliness (and the company of my crazy, male relatives). From now on, the only conversations I 'ld ever have would only revolve around dung bombs and Quidditch and disgusting boy-stuff and…things beyond imagination. (shudder)

At the age of nineteen I would finally go completely nuts; so I would start to read the memoires of Gilderoy Lockhart which in the end would get me at Sant-Mungos, causing a tear-filled and dramatic scandal in the morning press. My parents, unable to live with that shame, would disown me and sink into deep depression as their brilliant little daughter had turned out to be a lunatic Lockhart-groupie. Society would shun them and they would become antisocial hermits. As my mom would spend 24 hours of the day with her books from now on, my dad would start stalking the Canons as to find a sense in his new life.

Two years later, he would end up with an injunction and the name Weasley would be laughed at in all households (a fact that would make all relatives cancel any contact with us). Dad would have to quit his job and become a house-elf assistant (you didn't even know that job existed, did you?) to keep the family's head above water, while mom wouldn't have the nerve to do any work anymore, anyways.

Deciding, that things couldn't possibly become worse, my parents would come to adopt Scorpius Malfoy (insert a bone shattering scream and thunder at this point) in a weak attempt to restore their image by showing great _gratitude_ towards the son of their former arch-nemesis.

Malfoy, who'd decide to look past my parents' sudden financial problems, just to torture me with writing letters in which he addressed me as 'sister', would get my room and taint my former personal space with his rotten presence. A week later, the bloody prat would discover my diary, which held all secrets of my heart (plus disturbing poetry praising Lockhart) and gladly sell it to the _Daily Prophet_.

Meanwhile I, who would have gained my sanity back already, would be too ashamed as to face the world ever again, so I'd be forced to keep putting up the act of being insane. (and be fed with a baby's spoon till I die.)

So in conclusion, I'd spend my entire life in Sant-Mungos as a fake Gilderoy Lockhart fan girl (I bet you're surprised I even have heard of him) and my parents would be mental wrecks while Malfoy would be having the time of his life in my private rooms. (Whatever that meant. Ew.)

Oh, and let's not forget, that Hugo would have turned into a newt.

(After the heartbreaking loss of his lovely sister, he had begun to experiment with magical creatures as to fill the hole in his heart that developed ever since I went mental. (Aw, I'd miss him too. I guess.) An experiment would inevitably go wrong and now he'd be damned to live as a newt forever.)

All that because I glared at a random portrait in Hogwarts.

Damn.

* * *

To my (and Hugo's) fortune, this wasn't happening though. As I mentioned before, the portrait definitely had not been able to recognize me, thanks to the charm on the mask I was currently wearing.

Sweet, the Weasley name was saved.

(No Gilderoy Lockhart's 'Magical Me' for poor Rose.)

It was actually a rather useful charm, I might add.

Masquerade balls always had been quite popular with people (Muggle or wizard, it didn't really matter), since apparently everyone thought it was _so_ much fun not to know who the person beside you really was (yeah, can't think of anything better. You don't know stalkers either, do you? Gosh are they funny). However, they soon realized (smart ones) that the faces beneath the masks were easily to be recognized (surprise, surprise) and besides (different than in those sappy TV romances) you normally _do_ realize who you're talking with, when you hear the voice of somebody you know.

Quite the drama, I know.

So naturally, as to improve these 'highlights' of social lives, several witches came up with this one charm you would find placed on my mask right now. I could lecture you about the explicit effect of this spell, but I suppose you would just tire out and be just as clever as beforehand.

That happened much too often to me, believe me.

To keep things short, the charm made everyone who looked at you unable to make out your features. They would see you, perhaps even admire your nice smile or ever so dazzling eyes (isn't my language simply adorable?), but whenever they'd try to describe your face, they'd find themselves unable to.

Hair color? Dark…or maybe fair?

Features? Rather…sharp and edgy? No…definitely pudgy. Or maybe…?

You get the point.

It could be your own sibling, the very one you love till death (I heard something like that actually existed) and you would not even be able to bloody tell whether their hair had been blonde or brown after they put the charm on themselves. It was rather creepy, admittedly.

Of course, soon after this spell had been released on the wizarding world, especially criminals grew to like it a lot. To nobody's (well except for the bloody brilliant witches who came up with the charm) surprise, news had been full of new crimes and thefts everywhere, each a riddle of its own. After all, the bad guys were now able to simply mutter a charm and then walk in and do their business without anyone being able to identify them. That, naturally, amused nobody.

In the end the ministry made sure that the knowledge of this charm quickly disappeared again. Only the newfound 'magical mask' industry had permission to use it from now on, but they had to ensure 'general safety' by putting an additional tracking spell on each of their products.

For me personally, that meant I couldn't just go berserk on everyone and cause a blood bath at the ball, without getting caught (and transferred right to Azkaban).

Such a pity. Ruin a witch's fun, why don't you?

Although, if I was entirely honest, _I_ did know the spell and I did know how to use it. (I told you I was smart, didn't I? It's not that I ever had a choice in this matter…mom's genes just show through much too often.) I hadn't gotten a letter from the ministry till now and I supposed that was a good sign.

I did NOT break any rules by simply _knowing_ it, mind you. Rose Weasley does not break rules. Ever.

But that was rather unimportant at this moment. There was a ball waiting for me.

Hurray.

I had just made it to the entrance of the Great Hall, when I saw a boy dressed in fluttering blue robes running towards me. He almost tripped over his own feet and cursed so rudely under his breath, that even my uncle George would have blushed.

Needless to say that my mood immediately got better.

Although I wouldn't have been able to tell for the life of mine what his hair color was like, I _did_ recognize the elegant teal mask on his face. (after all it had been me who had chosen this one for the clueless little idiot.)

Besides, the burro ears were a quite helpful hint as well.

Smiling I waited for him to catch up with me.

"Rose!" he gasped and put one of his hands at his hip, seemingly out of breath. I took a look at his clothes and frowned disapprovingly; how in the world had the little brat managed to knitter them even before the dance had even started? If this had anything to do with that date of his…

"Rose…" he repeated again, his voice slowly gaining its firmness back. I offered him a smug smile.

"My sense of hearing is quite developed, thank you very much. I admit that I love hearing my name, but…"

A rather rude, unnerved snort from him interrupted me.

"That's so not funny, Rose." He stated and rolled his green eyes. (Well, I guess there were different tastes.) It took me another second to realize that he was glaring at me. Pretty nastily, I might add. "Why didn't you wait up for me when I called you?"

I blinked confused at him.

"But I did." As if to prove my own words I gestured around.

"Yes, after the fifteenth time, thanks a lot. Let me guess, you'd been too busy being upset with the world around you?"

Not so far off, that cousin of mine.

But still.

"Why would you even think so?" I flicked a few of my long, wild curls over my shoulder and folded defensively my arms, emphasizing nonverbally my point. Long hair is awesome to add a dramatic effect to an argument.

Especially if it's a pointless one.

Albus snorted again. He did that quite often nowadays, I had noticed. Tragic, what the teenagers of today had done to my sweet, innocent and insecure cousin from once.

"Gee, I don't know, _Rosie_…" Oh, he was so dead now. "But after seventeen years of knowing you…" (Please, you can't really count the time we've both been babies. He was exaggerating.)

"…it's kind of hard _not_ to notice your attitude problems."

Excuse-moi?!

_Attitude_ problems?

"What is that supposed to mean, _Albus Severus Potter_?!" I snapped and scowled even nastier at him. It didn't take much and I would've stomped with my left feet – but I need to remember you that I'm the sophisticated one in the family.

Hrmpf.

My dearest cousin's face reddened visibly at the use of his full name – but frankly, who wouldn't be upset about this name? I'll never understand what kind of illness Uncle Harry had suffered from when he named the kid. Of course I had read everything readable about the Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, the two men Albus had been named after- I knew what they did and what great men they had been.

But c'mon. _Albus Severus_ Potter?

Risible.

Said person with said risible name blew a strand of his messy black hair out of his eyes and opened his mouth for yet another angry comment.

Would you ever doubt our deep friendship?

"Stuff it, Rose, you know exactly what I'm talking about! I know about your goddamned stupid problem!"

"I have a problem?"

Well, that was news to me.

To my genuine surprise, Albus expression grew oddly grim. He was _really_ furious, I suddenly realized.

Quickly I recalled the past few hours. Had I done anything to upset him more than usual in the recent time? (Not counting the burro's ears I had given him)

Slightly intimidated I glanced at him again. Despite the rather negative attitude I often wore on the outside, the little girl in me was still terrified of being shout at (a trait that could be a real pain).

But Albus didn't spare me. His words echoed painfully clear through the floor as he yelled at me.

"Yes, you _do_ have a problem, Rose; you have a bloody problem with yourself! Back when we'd been younger you used to be such a sweet and kind girl, a bit too much into her books, sure, but whatever! You _used to be_ my best friend, the one I could tell everything! But when puberty came you grew so… annoyed with the world, just because you can't deal with _who_ you are."

I stared wide-eyed at him. Couldn't imagine that my expression was very smart right there and then, but honestly, I couldn't have cared less.

"Why can't you accept it, Rose?! _**Your parents are Hermione and Ronald Weasley**__._ Yes, they're bloody famous and for a good reason too! So WHAT?! We all have to live in our parents' shadows, goddamn; we knew it from the very beginning! In case you haven't noticed, my very own father is conveniently called _**'Harry Potter'**_! Yes, the press does follow our every step when we're out of school and yes, they do and ALWAYS WILL compare us to them. We're expected to live up to bloody _legends,_ Rose! Of course, we won't ever! But instead of sulking around and making those feel bad who love us, we others just carry on, just carry on, okay? We ARE individual persons, we are ourselves, not failed clones of our parents…and if you wouldn't be half as bloody ambitious, perhaps, just perhaps you would've noticed that! I know that you suffer from all that pressure, but bloody hell Rose…" he ruffled helplessly through his messy hair as he looked intently at me.

"There isn't only you in this world, okay? There isn't only you who has problems and...Just…_crap_." his voice broke in the middle of his sentence.

He could have hit me with a stunning spell; it wouldn't have made any difference. I felt as though he had ripped out my heart, stomped on it and squished it in the banter as I stood there and gaped at him.

Albus, my _best_ friend _Al_ since …hmm EVER… he had _screamed_ at me. Scolded me. Told me that I used to be his best friend. _**Used to be**_!

What the bloody effing-

That was when the first tear began to trickle down my cheek.

_Shit_.

Albus' intense gaze lay heavily on me as I quickly turned my head away so he wouldn't notice that I had started to cry right there in front of him.

I hated myself for it.

Unfortunately the tears that built up in my eyes were hard to suppress and even though I had a mask hiding the worst, I couldn't prevent them from rolling down and glittering in the light of the chandeliers.

He had been speaking the truth, the bloody _truth_ and I knew it. Each of his word resounded in my ears and stung like a needle into my heart. I was not used to him speaking like that to me…he practically said that we'd grown apart!

Ridiculous fear washed over me and in a desperate rush of nostalgia I remembered every little moment we had laughed together, cried together, done homework together when he would just copy off everything I wrote and ignore graciously my objections…sniffing I wiped my wet cheeks and tried to calm down. Unsuccessfully.

Yes it was true that I couldn't take the attention our family got any longer. People would stare at us as though we were the eighth world miracle, the papers would report on every step we did, our teachers would compare us to our parents on a regular basis...apparently we were the most interesting people in this big wide world and yet or perhaps _because of that _I felt like I was out of place. There were times I just hated myself and I hated my life.

But I never thought that anyone would notice that. Not counting incidents like the 'dress drama' I was pretty well-behaved and nice towards everyone, sometimes a bit ironic but generally kind all the same. I never swore out loud, even! (Shocking revelation, isn't it?)

However, Albus _had_ noticed. And now he had made me cry right in front of his very eyes.

Said that I made him feel bad.

Slightly shaking, I tilted my head back and faced him. Was his expression softening? I couldn't tell with him wearing that mask. My left hand dug into the fabric of my dress, its knuckles turning almost white. Wasn't I the sophisticated girl in the family? I shouldn't be standing there, crying over something simple as a fight with a friend. A very close friend.

Despite all my words, I'm afraid that my heart was kind of delicate.

Like a fragile flower. Ha ha.

A few meters away, the Great Hall was already getting filled with hundreds of disguised students, their chatting and laughter suddenly becoming present to me. Unable to put up with the tension between me and my cousin, I rushed past him. He didn't do anything to hold me back.

My tears were not worth an apology, it seemed.

Eyelids cast down; I tucked a curl of my auburn hair behind my ear and muttered insecurely to him:

"You might want to get rid of these burro ears, before you pick up your date."

With that said, I finally escaped into the sparkling, colorful everything that was the masquerade ball, feeling Albus' eyes boring into my back during all my way in.

* * *

The Great Hall looked stunning. There was not any other word for it.

Thousand, no millions of stars sparkled above our heads, brighter and purer than ever before it seemed. They appeared to be so near, so big, so beautiful that I felt like I just needed to reach out a bit and grasp a full hand of their brilliant light. It was moments like this, when I realized how much I loved this place. The night sky over Hogwarts had always been one of my favorite things about the old castle. Whenever I watched the thousand fires that sparkled millions of miles away from earth, there was this _magic_ in the air. Not that kind of magic you do with a wand…no it was the magic you only feel in your heart.

When everything seems distant and there's just you and the universe.

People might not think that I was a dreamer, as they saw me study for classes most of the time. To them I was just the ambitious bookworm with a highly famous last name.

But with all those books I had read…all those secrets, legends, dreams and great ideas of the world, be it Muggle or wizard literature…how would I not find myself getting lost in daydreams and fantasies? I grew up with the melody of written words, imagination and fascination instilled in me ever since I learnt how to read.

_This_ was the home of my heart. (As cheesy as it sounds.)

I watched the dancing figures all around me, how they floated over the ground, moving to the rhythm of the music. Their smiling faces were lit by the warm glow of candles and although they all seemed like strangers to me, I saw the emotions in their eyes behind the lovely adorned masks.

There was joy and passion, there was sadness or anxiousness. All displayed in one look, one brief moment in which my gaze found theirs.

I didn't know whether there were some of my fellow seven years getting trashed or all hot and dirty in the shadows and even if they were, I could not have cared less. Sure, reality wasn't a fairytale and anybody who believed in the innocent mind of all students was hopelessly naïve. But as I took in the beautiful impression of this evening, the ever so magical feeling that descended from these old walls, heck, was it so wrong to be naïve? Was it so wrong to appreciate the beauty and to dream, to get lost in the pictures and sounds?

It isn't all about real life, you know. Dreams and passions are what keep a person alive. _Alive_.

This was the genuine Rose, I guess.

But who would ever bother to find that out? They knew my name didn't they? Considering my family's constant presence in the Medias, everything about my personality was crystal clear as soon as I told people that I was a Weasley, right?

Yeah, I guess I wouldn't even bother myself if I were in anyone else's place.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the magic was gone.

Not in a literal sense, mind you, but as you can imagine, my already kind of ruined mood certainly didn't get better when I was forced to threaten people with hexes just to get my way through this mass of loud chatting and giggling dancers.

In other words: I absolutely enjoyed myself.

After what seemed like the thousandth 'accidental' shove in my rips by somebody, I finally managed to reach the chairs and benches at the sides of the Great Hall. Feeling as though an entire Quidditch team had beaten me up… and completely out of breath. (I hadn't even danced once yet.)

Sweet.

Albus' words still hadn't left my mind. Perhaps I was just overreacting, perhaps he'd just been in a particularly foul mood…I couldn't help it, though. His voice had sounded so harsh, so furious, so not-Albus-like!

Throughout the years he and I had grown much closer than we did with our cousins or siblings. Whether it was me calming him down during our first ride to Hogwarts (as he had suffered badly from his irrational fear of getting sorted into Slytherin) or him standing up for me whenever I had been teased (back when I hadn't been as interesting for the medias yet) , we'd been always there for each other. The one thing I'd always valued most about him, however, was the way he'd put up with every single mood of mine. Don't get me wrong – Albus certainly wasn't blessed with the patience of a saint. He was just as much a Potter as James was, you know, the adventurous school 'rebel' type. But he always had been more softhearted and insecure inside…and as we practically spent every single lesson and break together, we grew used to each other's presence. Besides, me being a female, I was forgiven much more than his male buddies. As exasperating as it was, the girls in the family always were treated like fragile flowers – the pearls of the lot. Even if the 'pearls' kicked their 'guardians' sorry butts in every single kind of way. (Ah, my modesty showing through again.)

We were quite an odd pair I guess – the exact replica of the famous Harry Potter who struggled to hold his wand properly and the Weasley redhead who was almost as nerdy as her mother had been (at least that's what people told me). Both well-known in the wizarding world and trying to fit in.

It'd always been this way – Albus Potter and Rose Weasley against the world.

But perhaps that had just been the way I'd seen it. My dearest cousin had made himself perfectly clear, hadn't he?

Frustrated I fell down on a random chair and wrung my hands in my lap. For the lack of doing something useful, I then smoothened out the wrinkles in my dress' skirt and stared indifferently in the distance.

How utterly ironically. The last ball at Hogwarts I'd ever attend and I was all alone.

As it turned out, I always got my usually desired privacy in the least suitable moments.

Yes, I was dateless (you might have guessed _that_ one already) at this bloody masquerade ball. Aside from the point that I had been absolutely opposed to attend this ball at all (as I was getting fed up with all those new events the head girls and boys came up with every year in an attempt to impress the Headmaster) , I kind of had given up on the male (not-related) species in the last years.

Now, that might sound like I was suffering from a way too early midlife crisis.

I wasn't THAT down yet, mind you!

The blokes there just didn't interest me – the Gryffindors were too chaotic, heroic (not that's a bad thing in general, but the wannabe-ism was quite tiresome) and way too impressed by my parentage. The Hufflepuffs were too …clueless and too sugary (they're really sweet, believe me. Just a bit...less _gifted_? Erm.) . Ravenclaws- well I'm smarter than them, do you really think I could put up with their nose held up in the sky, while I'm beating them in every subject? That'd be a definite 'no'. And the Slytherins…

…good joke there.

So, in conclusion, we see that Rose was destined to suffer alone through this evening.

And talking of herself in third person.

Mercy!

Leave it to Albus to ruin such a cranky day even more.

"_I hate family…"_ I sighed silently and looked down at my feet, mentally putting an end to this evening. However, I didn't expect it as a voice suddenly spoke up next to me.

"Welcome to my world." a bloke on my left snorted and took a sip from his cup of pumpkin juice. Startled by the sudden interruptions of my (highly interesting) sulking, I turned my head only to notice that he hadn't even bothered to look at me.

Great. I just happened to be involuntarily talked to and ignored right after.

God, I love people.

His robe and mask were silver colored, which made him obviously quite gaudy in the dim-lighted Hall. In an instant I knew for sure that he couldn't be anybody I knew – as none of my friends or relatives would be caught dead wearing silver.

Yeah, they took the house rivalry a _bit_ too far. (Err…not that the lack of silver accessories in my jewel box had the same reasons….heck _no_.)

Slightly upset with his (unasked for!) interruption I demanded:

"Did I give you any permission to talk to me?"

I admit, that probably came out a bit rude.

Good.

For a moment it didn't seem as though he was going to show any reaction at all. But then I saw the corners of his mouth turn up and forming an expression…you would merely call it an amused smirk.

A few strands of his hair (I had absolutely **no** idea which color it was) fell over his mask and right eye as he finally answered:

"I don't think that I care about your permission or your likings."

An angry blush began to creep up my cheeks on hearing the contemptuous yet bored voice of his. If there was anything I utterly despised, then it was being talked to as though I was on a lower level! By some coincidence did the music become faster and louder as I wrapped subconsciously a curl around my index finger and narrowed my eyes at him. Around us, students of all ages were swirling frolicsome around, so I kept my voice as low as possible.

"Great!" His left eyebrow arched slightly up. "Just throw another one of those accursed blokes into my sight!"

The stranger choked into his cup and broke into cold laughter – without any doubt amused though. My fists clenched in my lap and I shook exasperated my head. This clearly just wasn't my day!

"What's so funny?" I hissed at him. Not sure whether I even wanted to know.

He held up his left gloved hand and gave another little laugh. Then, he turned back at me and I noticed that his eyes, being the only part of the face to not be disguised, were of a strangely silvery grey color (which was quite handsome, admittedly).

"'Accursed?'" he mimicked. "From my experiences with other people, I can tell that a simple 'git' or 'sod' suffices, thank you."

Again that mixture of contempt, disinterest and amusement all in once! I wasn't exactly sure why, but that 'stranger' surely knew how to irritate me. The heated blush on my cheeks got worse – thanks a lot to Dad and his Weasley genes. Looking at me, I was literally red in every way. Red dress, red hair, red mask, red with irritation. So, after ducking as not to get hit by a couple whose 'dance' got quite out of control (they crashed into a nearby wall) , I folded my arms and asked aloofly:

"You're a git?"

"That's what people say." He stared bored into the mass of dancers, supporting his head with one palm.

I, on the other hand, frowned disapprovingly (not that he could see that through the mask, though).

"You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't?"

"Not at all."

With a nearly inaudible sigh, the boy leaned back in his chair and stayed quiet. My curiosity was slowly clicking in…

"I guess you could call me a git." He broke the silence once more. The lights danced on his face and made the silver material of his mask glow eerily. "It's all a point of view."

Interesting.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged, not sure why I even bothered to carry on with the conversation at all. Somehow the way he answered my questions …

…was quite interesting, indeed.

"So what if you were a git in my eyes?"

He snorted, still wearing that wicked smirk on his lips.

"Waste of time. You don't know me."

This was true I guess. Yet, I suddenly couldn't help it but ask:

"What's your name then?"

The second those words left my mouth I already regretted them. 'What's your name?!' Seriously, I could as well have asked him to dance with me!

Call me suspicious, but you had to be careful with the things you said to young men…

But again did he surprise me with his answer.

I was pretty slow that day, I assume.

"What has my _name_ to do with _anything_?!" he blurted out and I backed a few inches away. There was suppressed fury audible in his voice…a fury I couldn't quite explain.

"Well…uhm…" I stuttered startled. A few moments long I studied his unreadable expression. Thinking about his angry question. Realizing.

My voice softened slightly. (Which was scary by the way)

"Nothing."

I had complained about people judging me for my name, only a few minutes ago, hadn't I?

Good, because I struggled with the thought of having false déjà-vus.

My gaze met his somewhat dark one and I instantly asked myself whether I had seen eyes like these before. (They were really…interesting. As much as eyes can be. Yeah…)

Damn that stupid charm!

Nervously, I folded my hands and cast my eyelids down. I didn't even know why I felt uncomfortable about his little outburst all of sudden…or his gaze. I didn't know that guy. At all.

Yet, I glanced several times at him.

Saw his face relaxing again. Released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

And then he spoke up again, his voice as smooth and tranquil as beforehand.

"I guess the only way to find out whether or not I'm a git…" he smirked faintly. "…is to get to know me."

I smiled wickedly and I couldn't even help it. Perhaps there had been something in my food at dinner that had been already overdue?

"What if I don't want to?" I taunted.

"Then I guess you'll never get an answer."

Oh screw the little rat! I saw right through his scheme, I totally did! His little filthy words and that deceiving smirk just to…

"Oh that's a problem…I'm a curious witch."

What. The. HECK?

This was quite a shock: I had gone mental and lost every control over my mouth!

Adieu Hogwarts, adieu mom and dad, adieu strange-guy-with-a-silver-mask and hello insanity!

I _had_ to be insane, right?

"In that case…seeing as you're just as enthusiastic about this ball as I am; why don't we go outside?"

Correction- that bloke was insane! Who did he think I was? As if I'd let trick myself like that! As if I didn't know how these teenage wizards were! As if I'd go all alone outside with some stranger, not even having my wand with me!

Ha, in his dreams! Dad raised me better than that!

The silver mask boy offered me his hand- and smirked.

Of course.

Well not with me, Mister! I'd so wipe that bloody expression off his face, I swore it. First he talked without permission to me, then he didn't answer any of my questions properly, implied that he was a git, sneered and smirked the whole time and then he seriously thought I'd go outside with him?

Ha. Ha. Good joke!

Not a chance, not the slightest, I was so going to tell him that. _**Really**_.

I was.

But then I realized that I was nodding my head.

Saw myself taking shyly his hand. My face flushed again…and not because of anger, I was afraid. A tiny smile crept on my face as I stood up from my chair and began to walk after him through the dancing and chatting crowd.

-But WAIT.

Now, that just _**didn't**_ come out right! What the hell was going on?! Was this a conspiracy? Was the ministry involved? Had Voldemort risen from death and decided to take revenge by torturing Ronald and Hermione Weasley's daughter with mind tricks?!

Nothing seemed unlikely right now! I was practically already dead/abused/kidnapped/…

I was SO screwed!

There was only one thought on my mind, as I let myself guide out of the Great Hall by the strange guy with the (sorta) handsome grey eyes.

Blame Albus.

If this bloke, who I just came to talk with because I was upset with my cousin, did anything to me…

…it'd be his fault.

I could already picture it….Rose Weasley's last message to the world.

_Blame that bloody Potter._

* * *

_A/N:This is quite a premiere for me...I've never written anything for Harry Potter before (I'm sorry if my knowledge about the series is a bit rusty by now) and I've never used first person for a story before..plus English isn't exactly my mother tongue. I hope this was quite enjoyable as a first chapter though._

_Feedback of any kind would be loved. _

_Love, firepearl_


	2. Oh dear

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Nothing.**

_A/N: I was very thankful for the reviews I got and figured I'd continue :)_

* * *

I didn't have a bloody clue how and when it happened but somehow I and the odd bloke who'd taken the lead had made it to the lake on Hogwarts' outdoor grounds. My paranoia hadn't calmed down the least and the total lack of any conversation on our way out didn't help either. But apparently my co-fugitive didn't value the joys of verbal speech a lot. What a shame. I gladly would have shared all my darkest, darkest secrets (I err…hexed Hugo more than once last month?) and MORE juicy details if he'd just say a _bloody_word to assure me that he wasn't some kind of dementor in disguise.

Alright.

_Forget_ that.

Anyways, aggravating as it was, we had just marched right through the masses of dancers in the Great Hall like a glorious victory parade, flung the doors wide open and then we'd sprinted through the grounds like two knights without horses, facing the big bad dragon with our bloody swords , hearts filled with bravery, heroism and all that other Gryffindor crap that I apparently possess, and then…

…then Rose Weasley got whacked over the head for her pathetic imagination. Tadaa. Today's most ridiculous performance price awarded by me, goes to…_me_! Joy. I'd like to thank my idiotic cousins for traumatizing me repeatedly in the past, my parents for giving me the chance to live and die and last but not least the mysteriously mysterious stranger, who's bloody mysteriousness was driving me insane.

Now _that_ was a rant.

But no. Sorry to disappoint you. It didn't happen like that.

Sad thing. I kind of would have preferred facing a dragon right now to being all alone with someone I didn't know at all. Perhaps the dragon would've been buddies with my Uncle Charlie, come to think of it. We could've played cards, gossip about Uncle Charlie's lack of a love life and eventually destroy all humankind with one devastating fire storm. Who wouldn't have liked _that_?

Why in _hell_ had I agreed to go outside? Why? WHY?

Composure, Rosie, composure….stay calm.

Darn it, I had to be forlorn to call myself that despicable nick name. But was I to blame?

For all I knew, Mr. Voiceless here could push me into the lake any second. I totally respect the merpeople and their …misanthropic views and we're all quite chummy and full of love and stuff, but pardon _me_; I really didn't like the prospect of being attacked by a bunch of their adorably cute pets…the grindylows. Maybe that's just me. We shall never know.

But boy, imagine that headline:_Daughter of two Golden Trio members died in a lake accident – the Wizarding World is shocked_

There would be a really nice photograph of me in the _Daily Prophet_ and the people would weep and cry, saying things like 'She was such a lively young woman!' and 'Look at the corpse! Is that really _her_? Rose Weasley? Huh? Huh? Like…Ronald Weasley? Hermione Weasley? George Weasley? Charlie Weasley? Bill Weasley? Fleur…"

You get my point.

However, on the bright side my early death might help some underestimated journalist to _finally_ be promoted and get the respect he or she deserves. Maybe that'd be their breakthrough story they'd dreamt of all their life. And the only thing that is between them and immemorial success is _my_ selfish and irrational wish to _live_. I shuddered subconsciously. Could I agree on _that_ with my conscience? Could I really sleep at night peacefully, knowing that it was me who denied some poor fellow to get the story of their life?

And wouldn't it be a sweet death, knowing I did something good for the world? Anyone, any calls?

True, I suppose that my parents would miss me at first…and maybe some of my relatives and friends. Yeah, Albus probably, but he yelled at me, so there. 'You yell at me, I die to get even with you' has always been my motto.

Admittedly, it was possible that I'd ruin their lives, sure, especially grandma and grandpa Weasley's who already lost a son way too early; but according to the newspaper I was having an awful lot of imaginary friends who were ready to spill all details about my life to the press every second week. _They'd_ surely been glad having something new to spill. Could I deny them the pleasure?

A devastated family or a gossip missing group of imaginary friends…easy choice there.

But just when I was about to beg my companion to throw me into the lake, we stopped walking.

Sweet Merlin.

That was it, I just knew it.

He let go of my hand and turned around to look right into my face with his piercing grey eyes. Well right on my still ridiculously sparkling mask. Whatever. Not that I'm a nitpicker, _no_.

"Positive thoughts, positive thoughts, Rose…" I tried to calm myself, but in all honesty, the only thing it did was to tempt me to bursting out laughing. Not helping. Although the imagination was quite hilarious (in a morbid way)…a poor terrified girl getting abused/killed/raped while laughing hysterically. That'd be movie material, I tell you. Such a shame that I wasn't born as a muggle.

However, he still didn't say a word. If anything, he looked rather expectantly I might add. Which confused me slightly, but conveniently, I was too caught up in my exaggerated visions of doom and murder as to wonder why he'd look at me like that.

Another horrible suspicion crossed my mind.

I stiffened. 'Oh no.'

What if he was… a vampire? Not the ordinary sort, mind you, no, I mean the muggle sort of vampire. These really make you shudder, believe me. But could it be? I looked at his _sparkling_ silver robes and mask, feeling another cold shiver running down my spine.

This was not good.

What if he'd bite me and I'd be damned to be a _sparkling_ vampire for the rest of my life? I would never be able to respect myself anymore, let alone the vampire society. It would be a tragedy – another 'innocent' child lost to the sparkling crowd.

I kid you not; I said _sparkling, _in case you're wondering.

Yes.

I'm serious.

_Sparkling_. In the sun.

That's the muggle vampire for you.

Bloody crap!

My gaze flickered back to the illuminated windows of the castle and almost wistfully I sighed. A few minutes ago I'd given everything to get away from there…now I'd given everything to go back in its warmth and security.

As it was fairly chilly outside, goose bumps appeared on my skin and as discretely as I could, I began rubbing my arms together, just to stay warm. Apparently it was too much to ask for getting killed _before_ freezing to death. Could have figured as much. But of course, my odd behavior didn't get unnoticed by and the bloke looked bewildered at me. Under his gaze I felt a crimson blush heating up my cheeks (just perfect timing) and tilted my head to the left side, not willing to meet my potential killer in the eye.

The view was really lovely, I noticed despite my irrational fright. The lake lay almost peacefully in front of us, not a single wave visible. In spite of the, well, scary creatures that lived in its depths, it looked quite beautiful, with its smooth water reflecting the brilliant light of the moon and the stars. I figured that the water had to be icy at those temperatures, which made the prospect of being pushed into it even more unappealing. Therefore, I quickly cast my gaze away from it and looked into another direction…doing a little prayer.

Just for reasons of nostalgia of course.

I just… really _didn't_ want to die. I didn't, I didn't, I…

He interrupted my pathetic self-pity by clearing his throat fairly audible. I froze still on my spot. The blood rushed fast through my ears and I wondered whether there was a chance left to get alive out of this. Unfortunately he was pretty close to me, which made an escape impossible at this point. _That_ was just me…wasting the time I could've used for an escape with senseless freaking out.

Realizing that the inevitable couldn't be avoided much longer, I braced myself for the impending doom and looked up in the strangers face. To my vexation, it didn't show the slightest hint of emotion and even his eyes were blank and cold, different from what they'd been when we had talked those moments ago at the ball. Was that a good or a bad sign?

"Thank you for accompanying me on my way outside. I'm very grateful, you did a good job. Anyways, your services are no longer required, so be gone with you." He spoke with a drawling voice and turned his gaze away from me.

Eh what_?_

I blinked at him.

Repeated his words in my head…

…and blinked at him.

Then did the same again.

After the seventh rerun of this highly intelligent process, I finally had recollected myself as much as to ask:

"_Pardon_?"

Brilliant articulation, I know.

The bloke sighed unnerved in response and turned reluctantly his head back. There was something so disdainfully in his gaze, that made my insides burn. _That little rat_. Recalling his words in my head I began to seethe …

On the bright side, however, I was apparently going to survive this night.

But on the bad side …

"Look…" he spat quietly, eyes rolling. I scoffed."I wanted to get away from this pitiful event, which you did as well. However, much to my annoyance, my acquaintances "Yes he said 'acquaintances' not 'friends' or 'mates'. " -won't let me live this down, without a good excuse. As I take no interest in having a longer conversation with them than necessary, I made the decision to walk out the door with some random female and leave the rest to their primitive imagination. Nobody gets hurt; everyone's wishes are satisfied; now be gone with you and leave me alone."

Alright I understood that. Oh, and might I say anything about it?

He had _got_ to be kidding me.

He had to, _didn't_ he?

My face grew red and breathing got surprisingly harder every passing second. A face appeared in front of my inner eye.

_James Potter._

Hell yeah.

I could pay him and Hugo for pulling a prank on this guy. Maybe Fred and Louis would join in too.

Or maybe I could lock him up with Lily, forcing him to listen to one of her endless speeches of joy. (You just have to _love_ that chatter head).

Even better…. lock him up with Uncle Percy in one room and wait until he bursts into tears.

Let Uncle Harry take care of him with his entire Auror compartment. And if he hasn't had enough then, let _Uncle George_ take care of him.

I narrowed my eyes and stared with faked thoughtfulness at the lake.

…_maybe I could also let a few fake tears slide out in front of Teddy…_

Oh yes. This was going to be _fun_.

God bless my ridiculously large family. Did I really curse a few hours ago the advantages of being one of the protected Weasley females? The one the family did almost _everything_ for?

Couldn't remember it.

But wait a minute.

Actually, there was no way, no freaking _**way**_ that the things that just fell out his mouth were true.

Because _then_, _I'd _have felt impelled to commit a murder this night. With my bare hands. Who said Weasleys couldn't do it the muggle way?

As the violent visions of comeuppance were close to overpowering me, I tried to cool my temper (and keep my composure) by counting down…slowly and smoothly. Violence wasn't an option till I unleashed my family on that undeserving brat. No, no, _no_…

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

…_**threetwoONE**_

Yeah, I was NOT calm.

"You _used_ me?" my burning anger broke out of me and I clenched my fists till the knuckles turned white. "You used me as a _walk-out-of-the-door-company_?"

(To my defense, it didn't sound as daft when I actually said those words.)

The stranger looked at me as if I had gone nuts. Slightly curious, but somehow indifferent though, he asked:

"What is your _problem_, Miss?" Believe me, the way he said it, the address didn't seem half as polite. "You got out there without further harm, didn't you? I can't see any wish on either side to become acquainted so why don't just…sod off?"

My cheeks burned even hotter. This bloody prick. He didn't even get it.

"Excuse _me_…" I snapped back and threw a few loose curls over my shoulder. "I'm sure it didn't occur to you yet, but, there _are_ people who have a _few_ objections against being categorized as 'some random female'. Not to mention your disgusting manner of using my company to satisfy the primitive imaginations of immature boys. This has nothing to do with the wish to 'become acquainted' or 'getting away' from there, it's a question of respect towards others."

Don't you agree with me? Thought so.

Well, I was on a roll there, sure but I refused to being treated like a cheap bint. Not to forget that I had almost died with paranoia a few moments ago, which really irked me. Fantasizing of murder and monsters, because of such a stupid reason? No thanks.

It had to be my incredibly famous Weasley temper that was showing through, I thought with a silent scoff. The press would have been so proud of me. It was touching.

My counterpart however did not seem to share my opinion.

Surprise, surprise.

His jaw line hardened :

"And why would I give a _damn_ on your views on showing respect?" he challenged me aloofly. That furious flame inside of me blazed up again.

"Because…" I said pointedly and searched hastily for a good and preferably witty reason.

"…_because_."

Oh Merlin.

He snorted disdainfully and I mentally slapped myself. 'Because'? That sure would have convinced me as well. Silly, Rose, silly multiplied with ten.

Nonetheless I scowled at him. (You know, because I was getting better at that every second) "Let me finish, you … " Uh oh. No swearing out loud, Mommy would be ashamed, Rose.

"You…insufferable…_you_. "

I so wanted to bang my head against a wall right then, I swear.

"Is that all you've got to say?" he asked sneering.

Gah.

"As a matter of fact – _no_." I fumed and put my hands on my hips. "I'm a human being and I demand to be treated like one. Being an incredible git doesn't give you the right to use my exasperation with the masquerade ball for your own advantage. You could at least have _pretended_ to be civil."

It was getting sadder any second, but I couldn't help it. My annoyance with my lack of profound words merged with my annoyance with being so shamefully used and the result…well the result was _that_. Maybe just maybe they should keep me away from social contacts… I could deal with living as a hermit till the rest of my life, not having to say a word to another being as long as I lived…

"Acting civil? Now that is a fancy idea. However, as sad as it is, the majority of witches at this school happens to possess nothing but pretty faces. Their so called conversation is exasperatingly tiresome. "He snorted at me and I hated myself for having to agree silently. "Besides, there is no point in treating others as equals. Either way they serve you or you find a way to make them serve you." I saw him roll his grey eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and stiffened instantly.

_Shit_.

All of sudden I realized it. I realized what incredible fool I'd been, what a giant, gigantic imbecile.

_A Slytherin!_

There was no doubt about it. The thought hit me like a lightning bolt and made me my furious blush reach a completely new level. Shaking my head, I glared daggers into the ground beneath my feet.

_Brilliant_, Rose, just bloody brilliant. In all my awesomeness I had managed to let a Slytherin use me.

(For nothing more than walking out of the door admittedly, but it's the principle that counts.)

I swallowed hard, trying not to explode. This was _so_ degrading.

I mean…for crying out loud a _Slytherin_?Out of all people_? _I barely suppressed the urge to snarl at him. (Just for the sake of acting lady-like of course)

Who else would think in such a crude ways? Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, ha. Never.

There was just _one_ home for such ignorant thoughts.

Although it almost _broke my heart_, I decided right there and then to _hex_ him into oblivion. Or even better, the whole bloody house. Nobody needed those slimy snakes anyways. They were a bunch of prejudiced, arrogant, smug and snooty snobs, mad for power. The world would be a better place without them, believe me.

Plus, green just wasn't my color.

But before I did anything at all, another thought sneaked into my mind, a more personal thought. It calmed the wish to use my wand for evil, however not my fury. Through narrowed eyes I eyed the _Slytherin _again(shall that be his name from now on) and felt a new wave of anger washing over me. Pretty face. Tiresome conversation. Make others serve him. Bollocks!

That was no manner for anyone to talk to me, let alone someone who didn't know me the least. I didn't even know why, but the urge to hex him was easily replaced by the urge to _prove that bloody prick __**wrong**__._

So, before I knew what I was doing, I stepped forwards and told him off.

(As I said before I was _on the roll_.)

"Listen up, you pompous cretin." I hissed at him and stepped closer." You don't know a _single_ thing about me. Therefore you are not to judge whether my conversation is tiresome or not! Let alone to categorize me as some random bimbo. How-"

"You don't seem worth the effort to convince myself otherwise." he interrupted me with an annoyed voice and made me snap inside.

"You." I commanded, poking one finger into his chest, to which he flinched in response. Served him right. "Me. Tomorrow. Same time, same place. No wands_. I'm going to make my conversation bloody worthwhile and if it's the last thing I shall do."_

(And so I broke my rule of not swearing out loud.)

I honestly had no idea where that had come from, but believe me, wherever this mysterious place was, there was much more of this.

For a few precious moments I felt very triumphantly, humming silently a little parade. Victory, victory for _Rose_. Cheers.

Stranger boy however looked so stunned at me that I thought he'd stopped breathing for a second. I almost considered poking him again just to make sure he had not turned into stone, when he seemed to regain his composure and the tiniest of a smirk crossed his face.

"I believe we have a deal." He said smoothly, forcing me to use all my will power not to snort at his obvious cover up for this one moment of confusion.

Joyous as I felt, I was just about to give in to my satisfaction with my 'victory', when reality smacked me in the face and my insides froze (once more).

If my theory was to be proven right (which I was afraid, was most likely) and the irritating boy in front of me really was a member of the Slytherin house…

…I shouldn't been seen with him under any circumstances. Or seen _by_ him, for that matter.

The consequences wouldn't be amusing. Not at all.

Oh sweet Merlin.

"But…" I quickly spoke up again, maybe a _tad_ too hastily. "You've got to wear that mask again. Or cast the spell…if you know how to do so. I'm going to do the same."

If you're being in desperate need of _some_ sanity, it doesn't sound as weird as a request, thanks a lot.

Not to mention that it was illegal. I gulped and tried to convince myself that it was for the best.

Extreme circumstances asked for extreme methods…

…right?

Unfortunately, the Slytherin did not seem to share that point of view of mine. What else was new?

"Whatever for?" he asked suspiciously, yet bewildered.

Somehow I managed to fake a casual smile.

"Pretty face, remember? Wouldn't want to tire you out before _you_ can prove your conversation worthy to _me_."

He shook befuddled his head at me, but stayed silent. I looked back at the castle, where the ball was still held.

Without thinking, I held my hand out to him, giving him a stern look.

"And now let's see if this dance is even worth all our disgust. C'mon."

I felt as though I really had lost my mind as I couldn't even explain my curious offer to myself. Slytherin boy seemed to think so too as I could tell by the expression in his eyes.

Oh well. It was one messed up world anyways.

He just stared at me. "You're such a weird person…" he muttered and out of confusion I suppose, obliged to take my hand.

And so, as we walked back to the ball we had just been trying to escape from, with both of us wondering how we'd landed ourselves in this awkward situation, the words of grandma Weasley about muggle cars rang through my mind…

_Weird doesn't even start to cover it, darling._

How very true.

* * *

The morning after the ball started with a loud explosion in the boy's dormitories.

Who wouldn't be ecstatic about such a wakening?

I groaned silently and pulled my pillow over the head, trying to ignore the interruption. More or less successfully.

_Those little brats._

Anyone else would've been extremely _shocked_ probably, storming over to the boys and asking whether they were alright. Oh god the drama!

But I knew better.

Best five minutes sleep of my live, I guarantee you.

At breakfast, I tried to sit as far as possible away from my relatives, not the least interested in hearing Hugo's and random other cousins' bragging about how they a) blew up b) messed up c) played with any (insert dangerous object) which undoubtedly had caused the explosion. They did that all the while stuffing as much food as they could into their mouths, which was, as I feel obliged to add, a fairly disgusting sight.

They were pigs.

So I stood there, searching and searching for a distant seat to have at least some peace while eating. Seemed easy in the theory.

The only hitch in my plan however: It was nearly impossible to find a seat at Gryffindor's table that wasn't near any Weasley.

Convenient as it was, destiny played once again a cruel joke on me. Figures, as I had never liked Divination much, except for the lessons about stars. _Because_ of the stars, mind you, not the things our odd teacher read in them. (In fact I had already died seven days ago in a horrible Potions accident. As I was still under the living, I supposed that death had grown bored of my company.)

Whatever.

Grumbling a few mild curses under my breath, I eventually slid down next to one of Hugo's mates. Not the best choice, but pretty safe though. The boy was very busy ogling my brother, so I figured I'd get at least some peace.

I stuck my fork into my scrambled eggs and groaned as I caught myself glancing curiously across the Great Hall. Not again these thoughts. My head was still trying to get around the happenings of the last evening. Had I really talked myself into meeting a potential Slytherin today? Had I really danced with one, although none of us appreciated the whole bloody event at all?

And the most dreadful thing: Had I really _enjoyed_ it the tiniest bit?

Oh please, no.

I shoved disgruntedly a huge heap of scrambled eggs into my mouth and shook my head. It was nothing to worry about, nothing at all, I told myself. The guy was just another of those pricks and we had just 'arranged' that appointment to prove that brat wrong in his assumptions about my character. Nothing more.

It was not as though I'd suddenly come to absolutely _love_ his company and meet him secretly every evening. _That_ would have been something worthy to worry about.

But as the chances for that happening were really slim, I honestly had no reason to beat myself up over it. Or to waste another thought on the subject.

Not a single one.

Although…

Nah.

I was close to collapsing on the spot to shut all those annoying thoughts in my head out, when I saw someone sitting down right across of me. My insides froze, but somehow I still managed to sit up straight and fake a smile at some random classmate a few seats away from me for keeping up appearances.

This was not good. Not at all.

Why did _he_ have to sit down there?

Did he take some perverted pleasure in tormenting me?

No, had the entire world this perverted pleasure in tormenting me?

Oh, screw it.

As casual as I could, I looked up into his face, making all efforts to keep on a friendly yet indifferent face. I clearly felt that my cheeks flushed bright red, but I tried to not let that bother me. However, inside my head the thoughts twirled madly around.

Why in the world had Albus decided to sit right in front of me? Right…there? After his quite impressive rant yesterday?

As if I hadn't enough trouble already.

"Good Morning, Rose." My dearest cousin said icily, boring with his ridiculously green eyes into mine.

I raised my left eyebrow at him, but quickly looked away. I wasn't ready for a confrontation with him yet. The flavor of the eggs on my tongue went bitter. Discretely, I tried to get them out of my mouth again, without him noticing – obviously unsuccessfully. My discomfort grew.

Couldn't he look elsewhere? I only _used to be_ his friend, after all to repeat his ever so kind words once more. He had no right to sit there, glaring silently at me like that as though expecting me to break down at his feet and sob for forgiveness.

Because…the things he said had been (while slightly true) way too harsh…right?

I scratched my arm and realized horrified that new tears were starting to build up behind my lashes. His ever so present accusations and this bloody awkward silence were killing me. Normally we would have teased each other, exchanged a bit small talk, laughed our heads off at our cousins' chaos and then skipped off to class. It was always the same routine I had grown so used to since first year.

But I _guess_ that was the business we _used_ to do.

Casting my eyelids down I returned to picking into the (now cold) scrambled eggs.

After ten terrible minutes of eating and feeling his accusing glare on my skin, I finally couldn't take it any longer and stood with one abrupt movement up, crashing my fork down on the table. A few random kids looked questioningly at me and even Lily interrupted her vivid chat with her girlfriends to raise an eyebrow at my weird behavior. But I didn't give them all a damn. Scowling at everyone and everything in my sight, I rushed away from the table, however, couldn't resist from informing Albus:

"We have Transformation class now."

I just couldn't help it. Albus had never managed to memorize our schedule.

* * *

I was just on my way to lunch, when a shrill voice called out for me.

"Oh Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley! Over here, Miss Weasley! Miss Rose Weasley! Miss…"

Quite enthusiastic I might add.

I closed my eyes tightly and prayed for the sound to subdue. My head was already aching from all that crap I had attracted those past twenty four hours, without having to meet _her_. Maybe, I thought tiredly, if I'd just stand there without any reaction, she would leave me alone with my misery.

Fat chance there.

Her tiny steps grew faster as she ran clumsily towards me. The high heels she still hadn't learnt to walk properly in, clacked on the ground beneath us with a loud echo that would've waked up the dead.

I groaned and turned around, facing the bane of my existence.

"_Ellen_…" I said, while plastering a fake smile on my face. "What a pleasure to meet you…._again_."

My scary grin widened till it started to hurt.

(Just as much a pleasure as to get Avada'd. )

"Ah but Miss Weasley…" the pest of a woman smiled back at me and tipped on the notepad in her hands. "The press never sleeps."

Oh yes, right.

How could I ever forget that?

I was so _incredibly_ lucky.

But to introduce the nuisance in front of me…

Ellen Smith, 'The obsessive one', with her messy robes, a loose bun of light brown hair, twenty three years and sickeningly sweet smile, was one of the many unappreciated reporters of the '_Daily Prophet'_.

That woman was quite a phenomena itself.

To everyone's misfortune, she had never gotten the chance to write any profound articles since they always gave her the weakest topics to report about. Most of her work did not even get published. Disappointed with her career, but still ambitious as heck, she had made it the goal of her life to squeeze every single interesting gossip out of the children of the glorious wizards and witches in the second Wizard War, hoping to get the story of her life.

Which made us all unbelievably happy as you can guess.

More successfully than for the '_Prophet'_, however, she wrote for the '_Witch's Weekly'_, where all the lame (and sometimes ridiculous) gossip about my family was _appreciated_. I guess it gave her that kind of self-esteem boost she needed. Therefore she stalked us every bloody week when we were the least prepared.

I thought to remember that she had been banned from the school grounds, but, as her current presence just proved, a person of the likes of Ellen Smith was immune to such ridiculous rules.

And blessed with luck as I was I had naturally managed to run into her on such a crappy day.

Simply amazing.

"Dear Miss Rose…" she started cheerily, tempting me to scoff. Just because I knew her since third grade (when she started stalking us) she thought we were on _friendly_ terms, which made her an 'insider'. Delusional that woman. "Would you mind sharing an overview of yesterday's ball from your point of view with the 'Witch's Weekly' readers?"

I scowled halfheartedly at her. "As a matter of fact – I would."I kept my voice flat, while feeling exasperation already setting in.

Which respectable witch out there gave a _damn_ on a normal bloody school ball?

Not any I knew.

However, a shrill laughter followed my words, implying that she, once again, had chosen to get the point of my words wrong. You just had to love that hell of a journalist.

She took out her quill, ready to kill-I mean write. "I take it that something meaningful happened? Did you get in serious trouble, Miss Weasley? Did another girl wear the same dress as you? Did you have to threaten her with your wand, promising her to unleash your famous uncle's wrath on her if she didn't change? Did your cousin James Potter make an unexpected appearance? Did something explode?" The words rushed out of her mouth in an unbelievable speech. She ran a hand through her messed up hairdo and looked expectantly at me with her bluish green eyes.

With a sigh, I chose to ignore her shallow questions and replied tiredly: "James has already graduated last year, Ellen. His days at Hogwarts are over."

She chuckled sprightly. "Oh yes, but he was always such an insolent boy. I wouldn't put it past him to appear just for the sake of a good prank. Are you sure he didn't do anything?"

"Completely."

"Oh well…" Ellen bit disappointed her lip. Why did I always have the scary feeling that she fancied my cousin? "So what about dates, Miss Rose? Who did your cousin Lily choose to go with? Who did you have to warn against the charms of your handsome brother? Which lucky witch got the chance to dance with charming Albus? And last but not least which boy did _you_ give your heart to?" she winked at me, almost playfully.

I hated journalists with passion. _Hated_ them. Mom used to tell me stories about a hideous reporter she and dad used to know when they went to school. According to her, she'd been one of the most 'disagreeable' persons you could ever meet.

It didn't make me very happy to make similar (although more harmless as Ellen was a low class reporter) experiences with that…species.

I narrowed my eyes at Ellen's innocent face and began to speak:

"I'm very sorry, Ellen, but I can't supply the information you need. I have been busy the entire evening with preparing a traditional dark ritual with my circle of like-minded free spirits."

I felt great pleasure when I saw her eyes widen and her hand gripping the quivering quill in her hand tighter. Clearly she thought to finally get the big story she'd waited for her entire life.

"You see Ellen" I continued, trying to refrain from laughter." We are a small community who has been enlightened with the knowledge that material possession is nothing but a curse. Yesterday evening, we went to the centre of the Forbidden Forest, slaughtered a unicorn with a ritual dagger, stripped out of our clothes, smeared its pure blood all over our exposed bodies and gave a solemn oath never to use a bathroom again. A few of our ghostly friends supplied orchestra music during the process. With these simple methods we rid ourselves from the pressure of society and the chains of oppression. After that cleaning ritual, I impregnated myself with an octopus spawn which will be due next Sunday. I plan on leaving Great Britain and raising my little baby in the depth of deep space until the day I shall return to earth again as its savior.

Oh, but the music at the ball was quite good, I can guarantee you that at least."

Her face had turned snow white while listening to my explanations. She didn't even bother to pick up her quill as it slid through her quivering fingers. I cheered inwardly, not at all concerned about possible consequences of my little story.

After all, they'd kick Ellen out immediately, if she published such an article. And after what happened the last time with my dear cousin Dominique, she wouldn't dare again exclaim in public that one of us had undoubtedly gone medically insane.

So it was a no-risk situation.

Ellen's lips parted and closed again, before she spoke:

"That is erm…good to know….Miss…"

As if in trance, she walked away from me, shaking her head.

I chuckled to myself, as I continued to walk to the Great Hall to finally get something to eat, but found myself in front of grinning Lily and Hugo instead. They looked as though they had just broken several rules. (Believe me; I had a seventh sense for such things)

"What?" I snapped at them, trying to get past them.

"Rosie, Rosie…" my little brother scolded me playfully (and the urge to kill arose inside of me). "Haven't Mom and Dad raised you better than to mess with the fragile mind of our favorite stalker?"

Lily shook disapprovingly her head. "We were just going to have fun with her."

I eyed them suspiciously. "Knowing the two of you, I'd say I just saved the woman's life."

Which wasn't even exaggerated.

They chuckled again. "So when am I going to become an octopus aunt again?" Lily asked mockingly. Unfortunately she was immune to my glares…I guess I already used them too often.

Before I was able to answer, Hugo chimed in:

"Can't be long, Lily. She's already showing, as I see it." He pointed at my stomach and my face changed to a very unhealthy shade of red.

"Say that again, you little…"

Swiftly like the little rat that he was, he ducked away under my arms as I tried to grab him and leapt a few meters away into the safe distance. Lily strolled over to him, giggling.

"Actually…" she said pointedly. "We were just going to tell you about little the prank Hugo, James and I played on her, but seeing that you're not interested…" she looked expectantly at me and I sighed.

I would never know how she managed to get her way in every situation.

"Alright..." I therefore muttered and looked at her. "What did you do?"

The two grinned broadly. A very bad omen.

"Well you know how she obsesses over James, don't you?" Hugo blabbered excitedly, ignoring Lily's disgusted expression. The thought of that nuisance with her brother seemed to disturb her more than she usually wanted to let on, I thought amused.

"He paid her a little visit in her office, yesterday afternoon, y'know for refreshing their friendship." My little cousin gagged exaggeratedly loud.

I could only agree.

"So, he replaced her scripted out articles on her desk with 'special' articles Lily and I, but mostly Lily wrote."Hugo continued beaming up at me, as though he expected a huge compliment on their cleverness from me.

Yeah, right.

"And she was much too distracted to check them before she delivered them, James told us." Lily giggled again, having apparently succeeded in getting over her disgust.

I stared at them for a few precious seconds trying to adjust to the news.

"Are…Are you nutters?" I finally managed to stammer and slapped my left hand against my forehead.

The two little idiots exchanged a bewildered look.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant, Hugo and Lily. Oh and not to forget James the prat too, wherever he might do evil at the moment! Not only have you ruined the work of a clueless, unappreciated woman-" I wrung my hands and went up and down in front of them.

Hugo snorted loudly, which I actually could understand for the first time in history. I couldn't even believe myself that I stood up for that reporter.

"-but also you gave her a new reason to continue stalking us like a lunatic! Do you have any idea how keen she will be on getting a really good story after that humiliation? She will report on every detail of our life, every _single_ thing!"

The horror of that realization washed over me, but sadly, I hadn't the time to give in to suicidal thoughts.

"Oh come on, Rosie…" Grrr. "It can't be that bad, now can it?" Lily shrugged carelessly and began to walk away from me. Great. First they scare me out of my skin and then they leave me behind like some abandoned puppy.

"Yeah…" Hugo nodded and grinned again at me. "After all it was only you who told her that you slaughtered a unicorn, not us. We're perfectly fine. It was nice having you as a sister as long as it has lasted, but well, I guess we have to go parted ways from now on, my poor, delusional sister. See you, Rosie!"

And with that, the little brat weaseled away.

I stared furiously at their retreating bodies, trying not to get out my wand and perform a hex on their sorry heads.

"Aren't they a bit too old for such childish pranks?" I therefore grumbled and made my way to the Great Hall.

* * *

'_Same time, same place…no wands.'_

Something bad was up. I just felt it as I rushed to the Gryffindor Common Room, feeling curious stares boring into my back. I wrinkled my nose in confusion. The people in the floors behaved weirder than usual.

Which said a lot.

Classes had ended only half an hour ago and the nervousness due to my 'appointment' this evening increased for some mysterious reason that couldn't be revealed.

I pushed hastily a especially stubborn curl out of my face and hurried down the countless floors. There were times I hated the ridiculous size of this old castle.

Now was one of them.

"Don't get yourself into a tizzy, Miss!" a twanging voice advised me and I searched surprised for its owner. My ears flushed bright red as I recognized the same portrait with the same Elizabethan bloke I had just yesterday scowled so nastily at.

"I…" I started helplessly and faced the painting. Might as well pour my matters of heart out to someone. "I just have such a bad feeling, you know? As if something bad is gonna happen…and I can't shake it off."

The picture smiled sympathetically at me (if only he knew…).

"It's all going to be alright, Miss Weasley." His voice was full of sickeningly sweet optimism.

"Oh yeah? Well what do _you_ know?!" I hissed at him, before I was able to hold my tongue. Immediately, I felt bad for taking out my foul mood on him, but the damage was already done.

"What is it with the youth of today?!" the portrait exclaimed outraged and walked out of its frame, obviously having lost all faith in humankind.

Well, I really was the last person to blame him. So I continued to rush through the castle.

After some minutes, the stares I received during my way began to bother me quite a lot. Whenever I would pass a crowd of students, no matter which house they belonged to, they would turn their backs to me and whisper suspiciously quiet to each other.

It was really awkward. And not the usual kind of awkward, just the…awkward kind of awkward.

If that made any sense at all.

When the _sixteenth_ person had cast a meaningful glance towards my direction, I couldn't help snarling angrily at them, throwing my hands high up in the air while turning much too fast around a corner. This, however, turned out to be much to my misfortune.

With a loud bang (and a hell of a pain) I crashed into someone, fell over and landed sitting on my butt on the floor. The other one tripped too, but managed to keep his balance in the last minute.

Amazing performance, Rose. I sighed tiredly.

"Sorry about that, I just…" I muttered apologetic, while standing up and brushing my clothes. "I…oh it's _you_."

My voice immediately grew colder, without being able to do anything against it. Not that I really intended to.

"Sod off, Weasley…" Malfoy spoke contemptuously, giving me a dirty look. I felt anger rising in my chest at the look at his smug face.

"Don't worry, I was about to." I snapped back at him, ready to rush past him and forget the horrible incident of me actually touching (involuntarily) that scumbag. But I had just started to go, when he called after me:

"Oh, by the way, I read about your little _problem_, Weasley. You're even _sadder_ than I would have expected. But then again I should've expected it from _you_, I suppose…" shaking his unnaturally light blonde head in faked sadness, he walked away to his rotten Slytherin dormitories.

I was baffled for a moment. Not only had Malfoy spoken more than two words to me (which was probably more than in the last five, six years), but also harassed me exactly like he did my other family members. That was quite new…he had never showed any intention before to break our silent agreement on silent despising and indifference.

The second thought that struck me however was the content of his words. He read about my _problem_? Which problem? Why _read_?

Confused, I entered the Common Room, trying to find a sense behind his words. As I should have expected, all eyes turned immediately to me, only to be cast away equally quickly the next second.

I scowled at my feet. What the bloody effing heck was going on in this school?

Indignantly I sat down in a quiet corner, giving each of the brave souls who still dared gaping at me an especially nasty look. But soon I was entranced in my homework and forgot about them and their stupid hobby to gawp at innocent students.

Everything went quite smoothly till then, after approximately fifteen minutes…

Someone took my light. I glanced unnerved up only to shrink back in my seat. I barely suppressed a shrill squeak.

Defeated. _Again_.

Did Albus develop some weird preference to appear out of nowhere like a phantom in the times I had been such a _bad_ friend to him? It was bloody irritating!

Needless to say, that my natural nervousness only increased.

I cast my gaze carefully back to my essay, pretending not to care when he sat down right next to me. But I couldn't avoid the questions that began to storm through my head. Why had he chosen to torment me with his presence all day, if I was so unworthy of it? Why even bother to acknowledge me? I was such a bloody spoiled drama queen after all, hadn't he told me that?

Wonderful. He hadn't even said a bloody thing and I'd already managed to make myself feel bad because of his words again. I sighed in frustration.

Any other cousin, any other bloody cousin of mine and I would've shrugged their words off like nothing, knowing that they'd forgive me with time. But Albus? He'd been my bloody best friend for so long that he had to have meant his words bloody serious. And the thought of Albus, my Albus thinking so badly of me still frightened me. What if we'd never make up again? What if he'd appear for the rest of my life at random places, looking silently and so very accusingly at me?

Excuse me, but I really valued our friendship. I just couldn't imagine Albus hating me forever…it was _surreal_. Abnormal. Paranormal. What the heck!

For another two, three minutes neither of us said a word. My heart sank and I forced myself harder to concentrate on that bloody Potions essay.

"Rose…?" Albus suddenly said so warily that I almost thought for a second that I had just imagined his voice. Too afraid to meet his eye, I just kept my head down.

'_Polyjuice is a potion that…has a certain effect. Yeah. It's a potion, hence the name 'juice'….and poly because it has…that …effect….that makes it so bloody dangerous….and…it's a potion…'_

Alright. I really couldn't concentrate at all.

"Look…" Albus muttered uncomfortably, which I observed with a certain satisfaction. So I wasn't the only one who felt so bloody awkward!

"About yesterday…" he scratched the back of his neck and I continued to pretend writing on my essay. "I just wanted to say that…" his voice cracked and he blinked a few times, as though uncertain of what to say next.

"No I _need_ to tell you that…" I kept on scratching my quill on the parchment. "It was just all so…"

Another pause."And I…"

And another one."Actually…"

And, just for a bit variety, a longer one. "You see that I had to…"

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Alright Rose, stop writing down that Polyjuice is a bloody potion! Even the last imbecile should have gotten that by now!"

His sudden loudness startled me horribly out of my half-trance and I looked bewildered down at my essay. To my great surprise, I really had written down all my mazy musings about the Polyjuice in a row.

Awesome. If I didn't get an O for _that_, the world surely had gone mad!

"What is it Albus?" I finally asked timidly and put my hands in my lap.

Al ruffled through his messy hair. "All I wanted to say is that …that it all didn't come out right, yesterday and I…Rose are you listening to me?"he inquired accusingly.

The tiniest smile crossed my face. "No, I'm not listening to you, ex-best friend."

He sighed audibly. "See. That's what I meant…I mean, sure, I kind of did mean all the things I said and we both know that—"

"I'm not listening to you, not at all, not the tiniest bit." I said chattily, feeling a flicker of hope that we weren't quite as 'ex' best friends as he had made it seem yesterday.

"…both know that they're true, face it. And I still mean it that I feel like there is some kind of distance between us…"

"Not listening, I'm not listening, Albus." I didn't know what came over me, but I couldn't stop. "I'm ignoring you, you hear me?"

"But although it was relieving to shout it all out at once…"

"Don't you ignore my ignoring you! I'm not listening, not the tiniest bit, Al…"

"…I figure that I was a bit harsh. "

"Not listening to you admitting that you were harsh…"

"And…the point is that I _bloody_ miss you even after only one day as my best friend. No matter how insane it is." He rolled his eyes, emphasizing his point.

I smiled a bit wider. "Ignoring you, so ignoring you, I missed you too, Potter, but I'm not listening, not listening at all…"

He leaned back, glaring mildly at me. "Stop it Rose."

I was tempted to really ignore him, but after I glanced quickly on his tired expression, I closed my mouth sullenly again and stared at him.

"So…" he said awkwardly. "Truce?"

I bit my tongue as to not burst into chuckles.

"Truce is for battles, Al."

He groaned at my nitpicking. Couldn't exactly blame him, but it was more fun this way.

"…Friends again, then?" he asked uncertainly and I nodded shortly.

"Friends."

We both smiled at each other, but I couldn't help but feel that something was different between us than before. Him apologizing for his yelling at me still didn't make the fact that he thought all those things any better.

And it surely didn't make the fact better, that I probably deserved it.

"So…" I spoke up, trying to get those thoughts off my mind. "Be honest, Al. Why did you come to apologize right now at this moment?"

He shifted uncomfortably on his spot, but knew he owed me the response. Swiftly, he nodded at the gapers in the Common Room who I'd already forgotten again.

"Well…I thought you might need some support, during those hard times you're going through, dear cousin…" he said sympathetically and shoved a magazine into my hands.

"I got it from Lily…you're not going to like it, I'm afraid." He grinned halfheartedly at me.

Curious, I looked at the magazine and frowned.

'_The latest afternoon edition of the 'Witch's Weekly',yeah, but what…'_

My eyes widened as they caught sight of one of the headlines.

_**Rose Weasley joins bloodthirsty dark circle that promotes nudism**_

_Has the daughter of the famous Ronald and Hermione Weasley gone astray? Adolescent rebellion or serious mental derangement? Read more on the inside. Article by Ellen Smith_

Oh dear.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, Rose is a bit messed up:) A review would make me very happy._

_Love, firepearl_


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